


When I Say I Love You, You Think I’m Telling Lies

by musiclily88



Series: Wasted Youth// There Wasn't Much to Waste [9]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Underage Drinking, fuck my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Visiting London. Thought I’d look you lot up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Say I Love You, You Think I’m Telling Lies

**Author's Note:**

> CHEKHOV’S GUN!
> 
> This section is fairly long to make up for the fact that I’m a horrible, horrible person.
> 
> I have never been so sorry. I am so, so sorry.

“Louis?” Liam asked, poking the tip of his nose into Louis’ collarbone. He shifted his legs, dislodging the sheets from around their bodies.

“What, idiot.” Louis snaked an arm around Liam’s torso, pressing in solidly.

“Which car can I drive next?”

“None of them. You’re a dirty peasant and you do not deserve access to my beautiful vehicles.”

Liam wiggled in protest. “I will leave you cold and alone in this bed. I swear to god I will.”

“You won’t. Too warm here,” Louis said, tightening his grip on Liam’s upper body. “So comfy, you cute poor boy.”

Liam shoved Louis, who nearly off the bed. “Seriously, fuck the hell off.”

“No way.” Louis clung to Liam’s thick bicep, only peeling away when he realized he was acting like a spider monkey. “You demanded I stick around and I’d be a coward not to try. This is your fault.”

“Stubborn arse.” Liam looped his arm around Louis’ neck and pulled him closer.

“You dig it.”

“I know.” 

They lay in comfortable quiet for a few minutes, Louis dozing slightly. “Is it weird that I’ve never been to your house?”

“Nah,” Liam breathed.

“S’pose. Not like I’d be spending time with your family anyway.”

“I mean, they’re all right or whatever. We don’t really have anything in common. I think they don’t really appreciate my presence.”

“Why?”

“Erm. My sisters and I don’t really know how to get along with one another. Like. My dad hurt them more than he hurt me.”

“He put you in _hospital.”_

“Exactly.” Liam pursed his lips before licking them nervously. “So I—I worry they resent me. But they’ll never say it, because it’s just so ingrained in them not to have an opinion, especially not around me. But I think they resent me. For being younger, for not getting hit so much. Until lately. Because they never complained. They didn’t pull things apart. I did.”

“Liam.” Louis shifted to look him full in the face, pleading.

“I, like. I called the police on him. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. So now it’s all drudged up for them too, it’s all out there for everyone to see. And to judge them for.”

“He put you in hospital. He broke your ribs. He punctured your lung, Liam.” Louis’ voice was deadly calm.

“I—I of all people know that,” Liam spat, pulling away from Louis. “So stop it.”

“I almost _lost you._ I know you know it, but I know it, too. Fuck. I almost—shit, you almost fucking died.”

“So did you!” Liam added, giving Louis a nudge with his elbow, putting more space between them. “So did you, but you did it on purpose!”

“Because—because everything, okay? I don’t know why I did it. But I did. And if you want me to promise not to do it again, I will, but I can’t say I won’t _want to._ That has nothing to do with you, even if I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone else.”

Liam bit his lip and screwed his eyes tightly. “I don’t understand how you can say these things so lightly.”

“Lightly?” Louis scoffed, verging on offended. He scrabbled away from Liam, putting even more space between them. “I’ve never said this shit to anyone. Ever! And I can’t handle you rejecting it now. So sack up and take me seriously.”

“Screw you. If I tell you not to kill yourself, you’ll just tell me I’m not your therapist. You’ll just tell me fuck off.” Liam threw his hands into the air, tipping his head back against the headboard.

“I might tell you I don’t want you killing yourself either, you don’t know.” He ducked back in to clasp Liam’s elbow, pressing his fingers in. “I might tell you I want you sticking around.”

“Fuck off,” Liam said softly, finally giving him a smile.

“You’re an idiot.” Louis cuffed him gently on the jaw.

“I know.”

***

Three days later, Louis found himself ensconced in the front room, half-empty bottle of wine in one hand and an empty glass in the other. The doorbell rang and echoed throughout the nearly-empty house. He stayed seated.

“Lou, get the door! You’re right by it!” Lottie called from the top of the staircase.

“Don’t we have staff to do that for me?” Louis grumbled loudly, standing up to comply with her demand. He still clutched his empty glass in one hand. 

“They went home for the evening. They have families too, you know.” She waved her hands around dramatically, giving Louis a haughty look from her perch high above him.

“I’m not dressed to see guests!” he insisted, tugging his beanie lower over his hair before tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

“Stop bitching. My nails are drying.”

Louis yanked the door open with a roll of his eyes. 

_“Fuck.”_

Harry broke into a slow, easy grin. “Hi to you too,” he drawled, voice molasses-slow. His smile was wide and genuine, popping into dimples at the sides. Louis raked his gaze up and down, drinking Harry in. He’d gotten taller, much taller—he was now long-limbed and lanky. His hair didn’t look so much curly as wavy, but his eyes were still a watery shade of green. He was still beautiful.

“Harry,” he said, voice cracking.

“Harry? Harry!” Lottie yelled, racing down the staircase. She shoved Louis out of the way and threw herself into Harry’s arms, grasping him in a tight hug, drying nail polish forgotten.

“Hi, babes. How are you?” Harry made eye contact with Louis over Lottie’s shoulder.

“How am _I?_ How are you? I thought you were dead or lost my number, you utter cad. You don’t write, you don’t call!”

Harry chuckled, extricating himself from her clasping arms. “I got put on heavy-duty lockdown. The notion of military school was bandied about. I was practically Amish for a year. No computer, no phone. Did my coursework by candlelight while chained to a bedpost. Ate nothing but crusts and gruel. It’s a long story.”

“All the stories you tell are long,” Louis eked out.

“That’s true.”

“Why—erm, what’s up?” 

“Visiting London. Thought I’d look you lot up.” He gave Louis a small, crooked smile.

“It’s good to see you.” Lottie grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the house, out of the foyer. “What brings you to London?”

“Finally got kicked out?” Louis asked, trailing along behind them, empty wine glass still in hand.

“Yeah,” Harry answered sheepishly. “I did.”

“You can stay here if you want! We’re basically a home for wayward boys lately,” Lottie said brightly. “Lou takes in strays.”

“Liam’s not a _stray.”_

“I’m living with my sister, actually. Though I appreciate the offer. Trying to figure out what to do next. Finishing up coursework online and getting my head on straight.” He shrugged, ruffling his hair.

Lottie stopped their procession in the kitchen. “Want something to drink? I think Louis’ already three glasses deep into the merlot.”

“Fair assessment,” Louis agreed.

“Sure, um. Whatever you’re having, Lottie.” Harry sat down at the expansive kitchen table, running one finger along the wood grain.

“Really? I’m making myself a vodka cranberry.”

Harry furrowed his brow at this, so Louis barreled forward quickly to avoid discussing anything of value whatsoever at all.

“I will pointedly refrain from making a joke about your monthly because I am sensitive to feminine troubles,” Louis said seriously, sitting down across from Harry.

“It doesn’t count as refraining if you tell everyone you’re refraining. It mostly just makes you look like a giant cock.” Lottie ambled over to the oversized stainless steel refrigerator.

“But then how will you know I’m being a good person?”

“I’ll just assume you’re not.” Lottie pulled vodka from the freezer, settling the bottle on her hip. “We also have tonic water, various sodas, vermouth, and some weird healthy juice thing my mum insists helps her lose weight.”

“Cranberry’s fine. Do you need any help?” He stood up immediately, pushing his chair back with a creak.

“No way, mate. You don’t know where anything is in this big stupid house, do you?” Lottie opened a cabinet to pull down some tumblers.

“Guess not.” He sat back down slowly, chin ducked in close to his neck.

“You always did like fruity drinks,” Louis recalled, nodding contemplatively into his empty glass.

“Some things never change.”

“No. I suppose that’s true.” He fiddled with the stem of the glass. “Um. I left the bottle in the other room. Be back in a mo.” He exited the room at a kitchen, needing space and distance and air.

Everything was unfair. Louis thought maybe his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and everything was unfair. He placed his lips on the rim of the wine bottle and chugged the rest of its contents greedily. He pulled off and inhaled three times, breath gone ragged.

Everything was unfair.

He entered the kitchen again with trepidation, holding the bottle aloft. “Guess it was empty after all.”

“Mhm.” Harry bit his lower lip, giving Louis an appraising glance as he accepted his drink from Lottie.

“Oh my god,” she said quickly, yanking at the sleeve of Harry’s jumper. “Is that a tattoo?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry ducked his hands to the hem of the fabric, quickly stripping it off over his head. “I’ve got lots, I don’t even know how many.”

Louis’ mouth went even drier, so he turned away to grab an unopened bottle of merlot. When he turned back around, Harry had pulled down the collar of his t-shirt to show Lottie two swallows etched into the skin below his collarbones.

“Okay, it’s decided. You’re taking me to get one. I’ve been gagging about it for ages.”

“You have?” Louis asked, pulling the corkscrew from a drawer and turning to face them.

“Yeah, obviously. He’s going to be my tattoo guru. Help me pick a place that won’t give me a staph infection,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Gross, Char,” Harry said with a snort.

“Aw, you remembered the nickname. I’m touched.” She placed a hand over her heart, giving Harry a pointed smirk. “Dork.”

“Admit it, babes, you love me.” He shot her a wink.

“Yeah, I had the hugest crush on you for awhile. When you were still coming ‘round to fuck Lou.”

Louis barked out a loud laugh, setting the bottle down on the counter to give his sister a proud grin. He stuck the corkscrew into his—given that he had every intention of drinking at least seventeen _more_ glasses of wine before the end of the night—bottle.

“Lottie!” Harry said, eyes wide. He crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortably.

“I don’t have a naïve bone left in my body.” She ducked her head down, jaw clenched.

“You’re, what, fourteen? Come on, kid,” he insisted, the earnestness in his tone hurting Louis’ teeth.

“She’s not wrong, Haz,” Louis said quietly, giving Lottie a private glance.

“Mkay, I don’t want to talk about it.” Lottie took a solid gulp of her drink and then wiped her mouth, eyes bright.

“I think you should get that permanent eyeliner and eyebrows tattooed on your face. Just my personal opinion,” Louis said lightly, pouring himself a heaping glass.

“No way. I’m gonna get a peach, next to a spoon, yeah? On my side.” She clutched her ribs with one hand in an explanatory fashion.

“Eliot?” Harry asked as Louis shook his head fondly.

“Ridiculous girl. You would try to get a poem tattooed on you at fourteen.” He sat down next to his sister.

“What, you think they won’t do it?” She shot Louis a wolfish grin, sipping her drink casually. “Money speaks more than a wink or a pout.”

Harry spun his glass so the clinked against the sides. “Your mum wouldn’t disown you for getting one?”

“She’d have to notice first,” Louis and Lottie replied simultaneously.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, his gaze dropping to the tabletop again. He dug a fingernail into the surface, poking at the wood grain. 

“Why’d you get kicked out?” Louis asked, unable to contain the question any longer.

“Flunked out, you know. I just—” Harry began, rubbing his thumbs along the outside of his glass.

“You what? You didn’t ever.”

“I did.”

“On purpose?”

“I guess.” Harry shrugged. “Not on purpose, really. But I didn’t much care that it was happening after—after a point.”

“Haz.” Louis placed his hand, palm up, onto the table imploringly. He smiled when Harry placed his own hand on top of it, giving it a small squeeze.

“Shit.” Lottie grimaced and downed the rest of her drink. “If you two are going to get loved-up like the good ol’ days, I’m leaving you here.” She shoved her chair away from the table, making a squeaking sound as the legs moved along the floor.

“Char,” Harry said slowly, seemingly gauging her temperament. He removed his hand from Louis’ and frowned.

“No way. Don’t do that. Too much has changed, okay?”

“Hey, Harry?” Louis murmured, swirling the wine in his glass with his eyes down. “Why are you here?”

“I missed you guys, yeah?” Harry answered with a shrug. “But if you want me to leave, I will, um. I’ll leave.”

“No,” Lottie demanded immediately, shooting Louis a warning glance. “Just explain what’s happened, okay?”

“I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Harry bit his bottom lip.

“Right, like I just happened to get pregnant because things just happen like that,” she muttered, standing to make herself another drink.

“You what?” Harry asked, jaw dropped.

“Leave it,” Louis warned, eyes flashing at him sharply.

“Babes, I didn’t know.” Harry stood up and crossed to the room to circle Lottie into his long arms.

“Obviously you didn’t. It only just happened,” Lottie said, flicking her fringe out of her eyes as she disentangled herself from his limbs. He watched her in silence as she mixed herself a new drink, stronger than her first. She kept the bottle in her hand as she turned around to face Harry.

“Do you need me to kill someone, or—” he began, following her back to the table. They sat down next to one another, across from Louis.

“I already offered,” Louis assured him, moving his own glass to his lips.

“No, it’s. No, not like that. Just don’t act like I’m a tiny, stupid child,” she reassured them both.

“You’re not. I know that,” Harry said, brows furrowed.

“I missed you, you know,” Lottie said, placing her hand on top of Harry’s for a moment. Then she folded her arms together on the table and set her chin atop them.

“I missed you, too. Both of you.” Louis’ glance shot up to meet Harry’s and he was gratified to see Harry staring back at him, even if his face was panicked and pale. “Didn’t really like being at the school after—well, didn’t like it much,” Harry added, biting his lower lip.

“Well, sure,” Louis responded with a roll of his eyes. “They’re all blond and served on ice at St. Peter’s, aren’t they? Not really your type.”

“Nothing wrong with blonds as such,” Harry agreed slowly. “But I do prefer a different sort of folk.” 

“Right,” Lottie said, teeth on edge. “I’m just gonna go, then. You. Well. You two have a lot of shit to sort out.” She stood up, grabbing her glass firmly in one hand, the vodka bottle in the other.

“Lot!” Louis set his jaw firmly. “You don’t have to leave, you know.”

“You have shit to sort out!” Lottie stamped her way out of the kitchen, Harry and Louis watching her retreat.

“She’s not wrong.” Harry said, quirking up one side of his lip at the repetition of Louis’ earlier phrase.

“Yeah, probably not.”

“I didn’t actually flunk out, by the way. I dropped out.”

“What? You’re bloody brilliant, Haz. History was practically your bitch,” Louis replied with furrowed brows and a quizzical expression on his face. “Why would you do that?”

Harry set his jaw carefully, considering Louis with mild green eyes. “Oh you know. Mr. Rosenthal.”

“Shit.” Louis closed his eyes for a moment. “Not Mr. Rosenthal.” He shot a hand out to grip Harry’s wrist across the surface of the table.

“Yeah. Sexual assault’s really not much fun for the receiving party.” Harry pursed his lips. “It’s not—I’m mostly all right and all, but running away was a better idea than staying there. I was never going to stay there, obviously.”

“Fuck, Haz.” Louis pressed his thumb into Harry’s skinny wrist, feeling the slightness of his bones through the skin.

“Yeah, kind of what I was saying, innit.”

Louis grimaced.

Harry shook his head. “You of all people need to understand. I’ve got to make light of this right now, okay? Or I’ll lose it.”

“When?”

“When will I lose it?”

“When did it happen?” Louis asked, words tinged with fury.

“When?”

“Was I there?”

“No. You weren’t.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to leave it alone.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ve already taken care of it. He’s gone, yeah. But my mum thinks—she thinks there’s more to it than I’m telling her, which there probably is but I just can’t. And I’m not interested in living in that house. Never really was. Just not going to do it.”

“Right.” Louis nodded, removing his hand from Harry’s wrist. “How’s Gem?”

“Good. She likes her new place a lot.” Harry took a careful sip of his drink.

“And you’re staying with her?”

“For as long as we can afford it, yeah.”

“Well. Lottie wasn’t joking, you know. We have space if you need it.”

“I’m so not looking for your damn charity, Lou,” Harry said, voice half fond and half sorrowful.

“I never expected to see you again. Maybe we’re even. At least for now.” He shrugged before taking a large gulp of wine. They sat in tense, belated silence, their history filling the air between them with a variety of unspoken words.

“You gonna tell me about your new boyfriend then?”

Louis snorted. “Haz? You showed up here after—well. So pardon me, but I don’t really owe you an explanation.”

“You left me there, you know,” Harry coughed out. “You stranded me, yeah? No warning. Left me like I meant nothing much to you at all.” His pale eyes were bright with—what? Fury, sadness, confusion, unspoken hatred?

“That’s not fair. Not at all. I got taken away from you. It wasn’t exactly something I wanted to happen! And I didn’t want you to go on lockdown or whatever you said. So I was left to make sense of why you never responded to me, yeah? Because I called and wrote to you for months, only to get radio silence in return. You can blame me for that if you want, but you’d be an idiot to try.”

Harry snuffled, rubbing his nose with one hand. “Yeah, my mum kind of hates you.”

“There’s an increasingly large club she can join. Lottie can give her a discount on the monthly dues,” Louis snapped.

“I don’t hate you, yeah? Never did. Don’t think I’m capable of it, actually.”

“Haz.”

“Kind of love you, actually. Even still. I was terrified to come here, but I couldn’t not, you know? Just to talk with you. Even now, it’s like looking straight into the sun, you know? Warm and bright and painful, but I can’t turn away.” He sniffed softly, shifting in his seat. “Sorry if that’s weird for you to hear.”

“Christ. There’s nothing so fucking special about me, all right? Especially not where you’re concerned. I never saved you from getting hit by a high-speed train or from getting bottled in the face by a dirty chav. I was consistently bad news for you, okay? I made you worse. I made your life worse. I pulled you out of the closet in the most physical way possible. Your mother—I thought she was literally going to kill you. And I—I assumed we were going to get caught. And I just didn’t care. I was looking to drag everyone else down to my level, and you let yourself get caught up in me. God knows why.”

“In part because you were a pretty good shag.”

“If you think that, there’s yet another club you can join. You don’t have to pay dues for that one.”

“Oh no?”

“Nope. It comes with a tacit understanding that you’ll be included in my memoirs, along with everyone else who’ve engaged in alarming sexual behaviours with me.”

“I’m honoured.”

“Yeah, I just have to get it together before Lottie manages to write hers. She’s thrown around a lot of empty threats about disparaging my good name. Not to mention everything else she’s got on her side. Society seems to really like nubile girl-on-girl stories.”

“What? Lottie? Are you sure we’re talking about Lottie? Girl who got pregnant at fourteen Lottie?”

Louis shrugged. “What can I say? Most people have at least one moment of panicked bicuriosity during their lives. She just happened to act on hers shortly after having an abortion.”

“Is she all right, do you know?”

“Are any of us all right?”

“What’s your daily dose of damage, then?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Much as you need.”

“Settle in, then.” Louis took a large sip of wine and tucked one leg up beneath himself.

 

 

Things devolved and evolved as naturally happened between the pair of them, until it was two in the morning and they were sprawled across the living room sofa, drunkenly slurring jokes at one another.

“No way, mate, knock-knock jokes are never funny! Never in the history of the planet has there ever been a funny knock-knock joke.”

“Knock knock,” Harry crowed, thrusting his glass into the air clumsily.

“Who’s there?”

“Harry.”

“Harry who.”

“Harry up, it’s cold out here.”

“Oh my god that was even worse than I expected. Like, the literal worst joke I’ve ever heard, bar none.” He leaned across the sofa to ruffle Harry’s hair probably more roughly than was necessary.

“Hey,” Harry murmured, raising his hand to tug at Louis’ unkempt hair in return. “Still like hair-pulling?”

Louis hissed slightly, leaning into his touch. “Some things—fuck, some things don’t change.”

“Missed you.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathed, stilling beneath Harry’s touch. “I did too.” He bit his lip, resting his hand on Harry’s knee. “Didn’t expect to see you again. Not after all this time, you know.”

“You never expected much from me, did you?” Harry responded, raking his fingers further through Louis’ hair. “Never trusted me to do a good thing.”

“Didn’t trust anyone. Not really.”

“That fixed, then?”

Louis snorted. “Not by half. I’m still pretty broken.”

“Everyone’s got a little bit of static. No one’s perfect.”

“You came pretty damn close, from what I remember.”

“Geeze, you save one cat from a tree and no one will let you forget it.”

“I was afraid of you,” he murmured, arching into Harry’s hand, which was still carding through his hair.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Harry gave his hair a hard tug, making him wince. “Have you met you? You’re kind of impossible to hate. Infuriating to a fault, but you’re—magnetic. I don’t understand it. But I like it.”

“You think I could be an actor?” Louis asked. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, leaning into Harry’s lap. He felt stupidly comfortable, confused that Harry’s lap still felt familiar.

“I think you could rule the world.”

“Such blind faith.”

“I’m sorry you’re sad.” Harry leaned forward, pressing his lips onto Louis’ own. Louis leaned into the kiss, moving out of Harry’s lap and forward _forward,_ hesitant but willing every moment. Their kiss remained innocent, neither parting lips nor pushing their tongues forward. Harry pulled away slowly, planting a quick peck on the corner of Louis’ lip.

“What are you doing?” Louis whispered

“It’s all I know how to do,” Harry said, voice rough and low.

“Kissing?” Louis shifted sideways, opening his eyes to stare Harry full in the face.

“Making people feel good.” He nipped at Louis’ jaw, moving his hand to Louis’ hip, pressing his fingertips hard against the fabric. His other hand circled around most of Louis’ throat, and _fuck_ Harry’s hands had gotten huge somewhere along the line.

“Shit,” Louis groaned before he could stop himself, snaking one hand up Harry’s back. “I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Harry bit down on Louis’ earlobe, sucking lightly.

“Fucking you was like an acid trip.”

He laughed loudly into Louis’ ear, licking the shell of his cartilage before biting down. “Haven’t been letting yourself remember, then?”

“N-no. Not really interested in p-poking around until my memories de-devour my tenuous grasp on the present.”

“Such a way with words,” Harry cooed, shoving Louis’ shirt up off the front of his torso. “Clearly you’re not the one who dropped out of school.”

Louis smirked. He had cut his metaphorical teeth with Harry, who was just as vocal as he was and still just as ridiculous as he had always been. He gasped when Harry flipped them both so that Louis’ back was pressed into the sofa, moaning when Harry rutted against his hips and pelvis and _cock._

“Missed you,” Harry whispered in his ear, planting a kiss against his temple.

“Not fair.”

“Course it is, I’m allowed to miss you, Lou.”

“I couldn’t l-let myself miss you,” Louis stuttered out as Harry tweaked his left nipple. “I th-thought you hated me, that you were ignoring me, that I ruined you.”

“You didn’t,” Harry breathed into his ear, grinding his hips down. Louis watched him bite his pillow-full lip, tongue dancing, pressing in behind his teeth.

Louis’s jaw clenched, hips bucking off the sofa. “Why are you forgiving me? Why is everyone always forgiving me?”

“I’m not forgiving you, Lou, I’m just. I knew what I was doing and I wanted you and it was _awesome._ We were always awesome, weren’t we?” Harry ground down with his palm against Louis’ collarbone, hiking his arse into the air carelessly.

“I’m not—what are you doing?”

“Making you feel good.”

“Haz, Harry, fuck,” Louis said, “What are you—why, I don’t—”

“Too pretty for your own good, aren’t you? I swear. Think we should thank god for blessing you with this face,” Harry said next, kissing his left cheekbone, “and these lips,” he added, pressing a kiss into the bow of Louis’ lips. “And maybe these collarbones,” he teased, prodding his thumbs into Louis’ skin. “So lovely.”

“Haz.” Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and ground up against him, pushing their hips together. “What is this?”

“Everything. Nothing,” Harry breathed, licking a kitten-light stripe along Louis’ collarbone. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“Just be here, stay with me. I need you.”

“My beautiful Lou,” Harry said, voice bright and easy. “I missed you.”

“I know.” Louis bit at the dip behind Harry’s ear, partly to shut him up and partly to hit a familiar spot. Harry hissed aloud.

“Fuck,” he keened into the dark room, ducking his head down to tuck against Louis’ cheek. Louis felt drunk with it, and drunk on wine besides. He hadn’t let himself remember how eager Harry was, how he cooed and muttered and never stopped talking. 

He ran through a litany of compliments as Louis pressed into him. He strung together pretty words and light sighs, running his palms over Louis’ skin easily. Every caress felt familiar and electric, utterly essential.

“Missed you,” he whispered, “missed us, missed this.”

And Louis let himself sink into it, kissing Harry with fervency and intensity, and he let himself melt away.

**Author's Note:**

> Chekhov's gun: basically? If a gun is referenced in the first act of a play, it will end up being used before the end. Harry is that gun here, only obviously he's a person.
> 
>  
> 
> If you want to bitch me out or catcall me or pick my brain or ask for spoilers?  
> My tumblr is as follows:
> 
> musiclily.tumblr.com


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